Drop Dead Gorgeous(100)

Ugh! It was gross when I didn’t know whose it was, but with a definite name and face of where it came from . . . extra yuck!

Yvette smiles at Sebastian sweetly. “Okay, babe.” To me, she drops the smile to say, “You need to rule Dickie’s death from natural causes. Fill out whatever paperwork you need to so this whole thing is cleared up.”

I gape, eyes and mouth wide open in shock.

Is she for real? All this cloak and dagger kidnapping to get me to change some paperwork?

“Sure. I can do that,” I tell her.

She beams at Sebastian, and he pats her head like she’s a child. “See, Vettie. I told you it’d all work out.”

“Just one teensy-weensy problem,” I interrupt, garnering both their attention. “No one’s going to believe it. Not even for a split second. Everyone knows you killed Richard, Yvette. And by now, you’re likely the number-one suspect in my disappearance. If I show up and change the paperwork, it’ll be the biggest red flag in the history of red flags.”

Shut the hell up, Zoey! Why the hell are you saying all this? Fucking professional pride?

“But I didn’t kill my Dickie,” Yvette pouts. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” she implores Sebastian as tears spill down her cheeks in trails that leave mascara rivers. “I loved him.”

Sebastian yanks Yvette into his chest again in a forceful hug, and I feel like an unwelcome intruder into a private moment between them. But it’s not like I asked to be here.

“Shh, it’s okay. They just don’t understand. You did everything for Richard for so long, and he didn’t appreciate you. Not like I do. You’re an amazing woman, Vettie.”

Sebastian tilts Yvette’s chin up and kisses her fully. He has to be eating mascara, tears, and probably snot too because Yvette is full-on sobbing, but he keeps on kissing her.

I take a couple of slow steps away, hoping to go unnoticed as I get a head start. But I’m not too far away to miss when Yvette stutters out, “I did everything for Dickie. Took good care of him, even making those awful tasting smoothies you recommended so we could be healthier. I don’t care how good for me you say they are, I’m not drinking those anymore. They said in court that they had dangerous metal in them.”

She sounds shocked at the very thought of heavy metals being in the smoothies.

Wait . . . did she say ‘so we could be healthier’? Was Yvette drinking the smoothies too? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she drink them if she were using them to poison her husband?

Like the puzzle of the invoice, pieces start to move in my mind, rearranging themselves into a new image. I thought I knew how the puzzle ended up . . . with Yvette Horne as the murderous poisoner of her husband.

But what if I’m wrong?

What if we’re all wrong?

My eyes narrow as the new image comes into focus. One that doesn’t have Yvette as a black widow—ugh, the hated nickname stings even as I use it for someone else.

Nor does the picture have Yvette and Sebastian in cahoots, two lovers removing a roadblock to their relationship. No, this latest picture has only one person on the puzzle box.

Sebastian.

“Yvette, you’ve been drinking the smoothies too?” I clarify before I get too far down this new path of thinking.

She sniffles. “Yeah, they’re gross and give me headaches, but they’re better than eating three pounds of broccoli a day.”

She says that as though someone said it to her and she’s quoting them. Perhaps Sebastian?

“Headaches?”

Sebastian gives me a piercing look, and though it physically hurts me to do so, I force my feet to move closer to Yvette and Sebastian. “May I?”

I hold out my hand to Yvette, and though she looks to Sebastian for permission first, she slips her hand into mine. I press on her fingers, feeling the coolness there. “Do you have any numbness or tingling?”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “But I’m no spring chicken either. That’s what happens when you get older—your joints are always sore, your back argues when you try to hop out of bed, and your belly is a little sensitive.”

Headaches? Sore joints? Upset stomach? Numbness and tingling? All signs of heavy metal poisoning.

“Yvette, you’re not old by any means. And even if you were, those are not normal signs of aging.” I’m baby stepping here, because I think I’m in worse danger than I thought. But so is Yvette, and she has no idea. I need to try a different angle to get more information and to get Yvette to see reason. “I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t think you’re old. Look at the way he looks at you,” I tease like we’re girlfriends who’ve escaped to the bathroom to discuss our cute dates.

Yvette looks up at Sebastian, and he cups her cheek gently, love and affection filling his eyes in an instant. “You don’t think I’m old, do you?”

“Of course not, Vettie. I can barely keep up with you, but I’m looking forward to trying my hardest.”

It sounds right—sweet and complimentary, reassuring Yvette that their age gap isn’t a problem. But when she looks back to me with a crushing school girl’s smile, Sebastian’s face goes blank, all adoration simply turning off like a switch.

My gut roils, a stone in the pit of my stomach threatening to come up. But I stay steady and force a smile to my lips, though I can feel it’s twitchy and wavering.